Catching the wind
by bladeofdeliverance
Summary: Post Oathbringer Kaladin x OC romance Featuring Bridge 4, surgebinder fights and a devilish scheme. Will Kaladin prevail in the face of a new threat? Or will he once again fail those he has grown to love?
1. Chapter 1

Something was off. It felt just a little more than a feeling. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but the feeling of uneasiness wouldn't relent.

The glowing figure of a woman in a long dress appeared in front of him to disapprovingly wave her tiny fingers in front of his face. "No frowning now Kaladin! I watched and you were just now enjoying yourself! Why don't you smile, Kaladin? Kaladin?"

"Indeed, why...", he murmered to himself, letting his glance pass over the pair of men in front of him, grunting and sweating, some faintly glowing in the twilight. The sun would be setting any time now, but as of yet while it's brightness already illuminated the sky, the sun itself still drowsily hid beneath the horizon. However, nothing here was out of the ordinary. Those were good men and he enjoyed training them. None of them complained, even though they had been training before sunrise every day of the last moon. Most of them where new to this, people who had only recently begun drawing in stormlight. Bridge Four still hadn't clearly figured out what determined whether a volunteer could do this or was one of the many who eventually gave up. Sigzil focused on other things as of now and no one else in the crew had ever shown similar determination for measuring and catologuing as the azish wordlsinger. On the contrary - most of his men were still fairly scandalized by the thought of men doing anything close to writing and reading.

A pair stumbled in his direction. He had to quickly step aside to evade one of the men being thrown back by a lashing in Kaladins direction. It was this slight turn that brought Kaladins view to the everpresent crowd of spectators. Evading them was one of the main reasons he had scheduled the training at this early hour. There wasn't really a specific reason why Kaladin hated people watching him and the men using stormlight, yet still the feeling lingered within him, that this was something private, more than regular training. He tried to limit himself to correcting and stepping in from time to time to prevent damages, so his own abilities weren't that prominent to the crowd.

It was his distaste for their observers, which had obscured the reason for his uneasiness to him, he now found. He spared them but one quick glance in his turn but immediately found the irregularity.

"What is it?", Syl demanded while plucking at a strand of his long hair. She held onto it and even though she was an incorporal being she gave the impression of a little girl swinging on a rope. "You're making a weird face."

"The soldier with the white leather-harness.", he mumbled with satisfaction. The ability to point out exactly what had made him uncomfortable felt as if he was finally able to scratch an itch. "That's what's been bothering me. He's off."

"And _off_ is a bad thing? He looks nice to me." She let go of his hair to make a motion, as if going up on an invisible stair next to his head. He paid her little intention and instead fixated the soldier. Even though Syl was an honorspren she had been pretending to be a winspren for a long time and maybe that was the reason she sometimes liked to behave like these mischievous cousins of hers. "You should wear armor like that too. It looks nice.", she declared.

"It's not about the armor.", Kaladin mumbled, more to himself than to the spren looking down at him. "But all of the others - they are awed or amazed by what they see. Not him. He seems to... Evaluate. Appraise. If I didn't know better I'd think he's a recruit waiting for his turn in the ring. And why would he be wearing that helmet!"

It didn't make sense. In battle men couldn't wait to get the heavy, itching can of metal off their heads, sometimes even endangering themselves by removing them to early. And here was this fellow – standing as a spectator, not even a combatant in a safe location, looking as calm and content as if slacking off in his private quarters, wearing only his softest nightshift.

Kaladin needed to get to the bottom of this. Whom did this man belong to, fully armored and armed on a save training field in the middle of Urithiru?! The man wore no colors and Kaladin was sure he had never seen that armor before. It was recognizable and made the man stand apart. Even now, the crowd refused to swallow him like it had everyone else standing at points with a good view. As Kaladin approached him, the people retreated even further, sensing the tensity in his gait. No one wanted to get caught in the threatening fight. He noticed that his own breathing had quickened. A spy perhaps? Or something worse? Who was this man and why would he... Needed to keep an eye on the man's hands. Stormlight probably did it's part to protect Kaladin from something like a poisoned dagger, still, better to be alert before anything-

The man didn't even look at him! Only when Kaladin came close enough to obstruct the strangers view of the training did the man turn his watchful gaze from Bridge Four and the new volunteers. When their eyes met he crossed his arms, widening his stance to a broad variant that could easily become a fighting stance. He didn't flinch back even so much as an inch before Kaladin's approach. When he came close enough to make out the face under the eye-slit Kaladin felt he knew why.

A storming lighteye.

Light amber eyes focused on Kaladin, calmly assessing him. The man's eyes had something strange about them, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. What bothered Kaladin far more was the calm self-confidence with whom the lighteyes held his ground, even when Kaladin stopped directly in front of him. He's not concerned at all why I'm singling him out, Kaladin realized. Storming lighteyes, he immidiatly cursed in his head. Think you're too important for me, hm? No worry over a confrontation with a darkeyes, even though he must now of my reputation. Something about this guy is really wrong.

In his head a slim voice reminded Kaladin, that his eyes were probably brighter than the man's at the moment. He shoved that thought asside with the usual vehemence. Almost a year had now passed since he had first summoned Syl as a weapon but still he hadn't gotten over the changes to his eyecolour that brought.

"You.", Kaladin inquired. "Who are you? Which highprince do you follow?"

Through the eyeslits Kaladin could see the soldier razing his eyebrows at him. The helmet closed over his mouth so Kaladin suspected the metal was distorting the sound when the man replied in a surprisingly high pitch of voice.

"My loyalty is my own. If they want my sword, they'll have to pay my price. People call me Shadowcutter. That enough for you?"

Kaladin's eyes tightened and he felt himself shifting into a hostile position. A mercenary. Sword for hire, someone who sold his honor for a bag of gold. Obviously! The helmet, the armor – it wasn't for protection. It was advertisement. That man probably hoped to find employment now that the Alethi were set upon reclaiming Kholinar from the Parshmen.

But a lighteyed mercenary?

Something still wasn't right.

"Right..."Kaladin said. "A lighteyed common mercenary. Sure."

The man's eyes beneath the massive steel of his helmet curved, as if amused. "I never said I was common. And for the rest - do you imply me to be a liar, Stormblessed?" His high voice had taken a challenging tone. Kaladin felt reminded of his first few years in the army. New recruits trying to tease men twice their weight into a fight to prove to everyone they weren't to be messed with. Drunken daredevils taking on the worst of the unit in a futile attempt to show off their skills. That man might have been lighteyed, but he behaved like a common darkeyes greenvine, eager to prove his mettle.

"It's Knight Radiant to you, scum!", a voice behind Kaladin bellowed. He felt his the men of Bridge four more than he saw them, forming as a defensive bulk behind his back. A quick glance to the side showed him Teft, who had stepped up beside him, glaring daggers at the stranger. The mercenary didn't spare him a glance.

"Your Knight Radiant insulted my honor and my honesty, churl. Everyone heard it!"

He leaned forward, his eyes meeting Kaladins. They sparkled with...

Amusement?

"I demand a formal apology or he face me in duel for that insult!", the soldier proclaimed at the top of his voice. The crowd was bustling alive now, some pushing forward with curiosity, most people hustling back fearfully, forming a wide circle around the mercenary. Something was still not right to Kaladin. Something about the man's voice, and his eyes, the way he held himself, no, something more, something...

He didn't even think for a second. "I am not duelling you. Storm off!" As of now Kaladin felt mainly annoyed but still on alert. That fool wanted to fight. He didn't seem drunk but intent on getting what he wanted. Humbling the darkeyed captain in front of his men? Asserting lighteye-dominance? Or perhaps he had tried to draw in Sormlight, but failed and now wanted to make up for it? Whatever it was, better to be careful. Still could be a spy or something like an assassin. Kaladin knew how to handle himself but that didn't mean he shouldn't-

"So you insult me and then back out from giving me satisfaction? Have you no honor, coward?"

"You're not calling the Captain a coward and getting away with it!", one of Kaladin's men replied angrily. No, no, no. Couldn't let this become an incident. Couldn't have his men brawling on the street like common-

"Everyone, stand down, NOW!", a voice thundered from one moment to the next. "If anyone so much as touches a weapon he'll regret it!"

People jumped, the back of the crowd was suddenly in an uproar, shouting and hustling. Kaladin crossed his arms and snapped into parade. A quick look to his men showed him, that they immediately followed suit.

Dalinar Kholin had that effect on soldiers.

The mercenary was still transfixed on Kaladin. Only when the highprince was almost upon him, the man to face him.

He must have had more courage than anyone would have thought him to, for he didn't falter under the Blackthorns glare.

"I-", Dalinar thundered and stepped closer to the man. "Will not have people disturbing training while the enemy holds our home! Spewing vain challenges at their betters! Whom do you think yourself, cur? Take off your helmet, man, when facing me! Who do you think yourself to be? Take off your helmet!"

He doesn't carry a weapon, Kaladin suddenly realized, shocked to attention. Full armor and most soldiers on the training grounds carried their weapon with them, even when not training themselves. Full armor, even helmet, but no weapon. That could mean-

The man tried backing away, suddenly void of all bravado. But the crowd - who had so keenly spewn him out before, now refused to swallow the man anew. Today many men of the former bridge seventeen were among Dalinar's personal guard and they wuickly had the mercenary surrounded. Dalinar again roared for him to reveal his face. The crowd clapped and shouted approving, suddenly pouring down all their dismay upon the white-armored man. He frantically searched for an exit, shooting looks in all directions. Kaladin pressed onward, trying to get between Dalinar and the mercenary, as the man put his armored hand to the side, as if to- He wouldn't be there in time! No, had Dalinar noticed? That could not be happening, his men were to close, if the stranger summoned a shardblade-

Kaladin's heart soared to a shocked stop as the man's arm came upward.

Reaching for his helmet.

He stumbled, hearing blood pound in his ears, almost dizzy with relief. No, not a shardbearer. Just an awkward motion to-

Wait.

A storm of black locks appeared from the helmet. Framing a delicate chin and long, narrow nose. Full lips in the colour of ripe pileberries.

The angry cries of the crowd tumbled to shocked silence. Even Dalinar Kholin seemed shaken for the fraction of a moment.

The mercenary was a lighteyed woman.

With a clank the helmet hit the ground.

It was deafening in the sudden silence.


	2. Chapter 2

"Now this... wasn't my best idea.", she mumbled, sighing heavily in frustration. "It was an exquisitely stupid one to be precise." Given - the small room was luxurious for a prison cell, with a clean bed, a chair and a separate section, lacking a door, but in all other accounts almost like an own room for the privy and a washbasin of soulcast granite. There even was a curtain to make up for that missing door. Some days in the past years she had slept in paid shelters that didn't offer that much comfort.

Yet if she could have traded those run down, wooden shacks, which offered nothing but a stack of hay for this cell, she would have done it in an instant. At least in those, she could feel the wind on her skin, whispering through the cracks in the cheap, wooden walls. Here, there wasn't even a window.

That was bothering her more than she would have anticipated.

"Wasn't worse than the incident in Dunadari I think.", Aris annotated dryly. "Now that was typical human foolishness if you ask me."

Even the slight mention of that made her cheeks blush furiously. She shook her head decidedly to drive out all thoughts of that silliness. Dunadari - the place where she had saved two lighteyed girls traveling in a caravan they thought save from a robbery. She had then ended up traveling with them far longer than anticipated and when one of the young women started approaching her in a manner that made quite clear she had not realized the true nature of their saviour, it had seemed like a good idea to encourage her hopes. She tried her best to pass for a man while wearing the armor, so it had been... convenient.

Until the Brightlady had publicly announced her intention to progress forward with a betrothal. That had been an escape that night... Sneaking over rooftops and walls to get out of that city, all the while listening to Aris' mockery...

None of that now. For now the only thing she could afford to waste focus on was getting out of this cell unseen!

"I need to get out of here." She eyed the sturdy, soulcast walls. They weren't of the original material, that framed the halls and walls of this place, that much was obvious from their clean, grey surface that lacked the typical strata. When she had put her ears on them to listen for noise coming from the other side, she had heard nothing. But there had to be something behind them, right? Otherwise the Highprince wouldn't have bothered having them put up in the first place. Restless she paced from one end of the room to the other, nervously opening and closing her right hand. She didn't summon Aris yet. She wasn't yet sure, what she should do. What she could do.

"They will be waiting for you once night breaks.", he whispered in her mind. As always, she could barely make out the words his hoarse, strained voice formed. Since the day he had first talked to her this had been, how her mind interpreted his words.

Still far better than the screaming before.

Her hands turned to fists. "I know.", she acknowledged. "I need to get to them. At once. They'll need me tonight. Frani's deptors are sure to make an appearance, now that she has refused them for more than a week. Word might even have reached them about what happened at the training grounds. But...!" Her whole body tightened to a breaking point as she raised her freehand to her face. With a stiffled scream she crashed it into the wall before her.

There was only one way. She had given her word. Those people Frani, the boy with the scarred eye, Livana...

She needed to protect them.

But there was only one way to get to them soon enough.

And it required risking everything.

Remember your oaths., Aris whispered in her head. A faint blueish mist appeared in her freehand, even though she still hadn't summoned him consciously. He wanted to go too. She clenched her teeth, her lips becoming a tight line devout of any colour.

Highprince Kholin was no fool. Already finding a lighteyed woman masquerading as a common soldier drew more attention than she could allow. But once she escaped this place, there was no way that her identity could remain hidden. She would have to start anew. Already leaving this place would mean abandoning her armor. Gladly she had left her weapons and belongings with Frani but it would still cost a fortune to replace the things the prison guard held. Until now she had always been able to draw from her reputation to quickly get back on her feet again when she had lost something of that magnitude. If she really broke out of prison now...

"I should never have gone to that storming training.", she cursed through her teeth. "Storm me for a fool, if I had just stayed away, minded my own business-"

"You could not. You know that it was not a matter of mere curiosity that drew you towards these men, Zeraina. You have been on your own for too long. Such as you are not meant to walk their path alone. It is as it is to be."

"What does that mean?", she asked even though she already knew Aris wouldn't reply. It was not the first time he had said things like this but he could never recall what exactly he meant by them. She didn't press him. There were still many parts of him that were hurt - badly wounded and fractured into pieces. Somehow this knowledge connected to these wounds.

She let it go.

A decision had formed in her mind. She closed her eyes.

Yes, she hated the uproar this would bring. She most definitely had no desire whatsoever to start from the beginning again, build up a new name, a new reputation and live lean for the next months, barely being able to make enough marks to feed and house herself. The last years she had had the luxury of being able to choose her employers. That would be gone. The reason she came here - letting someone employ her for their quest to retake their homeland - gone.

But she had sworn an oath.

Time was running out.

She had to get to them.

Mist became a knife in her hand. Not a sword - she needed something smaller if she wanted to get to work on this wall. It was easier having Aris take his usual shape, deviations like this would drain a certain measure of the Stormlight she carried with her. Luckily as of yet, she didn't lack the spheres for that. Almighty send, that no one watched the other side of it at the moment!

Aris made short work of the stone wall. She refused to look back, to see the too-smooth edges herself and instead concentrated fully on the people she had to get to.

She couldn't let herself think of the consequences of Kholin realizing that the woman he had held was a Shardbearer.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is it ready yet?"Leyten stood up, as if intending to go check for himself how long the stew was still going to take but was fended off by Rock turning around, swinging a wooden spoon bigger than any Kaladin had seen in kitchens before. Steam rose from the orange substance on it. Rock wielded the big tool he used for stirring the broth like someone else would have a sword, a threatening expression in his exotic pale face. "Is ready when I say it is. Not ready to be tasted by impatient bridge-man tongues yet. You stop this thing or I will whack you, I promise!" He waved the spoon in Leyten's direction, who shied back laughing, joking about the stew taking too long for anyone sitting here to witness it. Kaladin couln't help smirking as Rock stirred the soup again, cautionarily waving at Leyten, while telling his helpers to add in additional spices.

The air of relaxation that had finally settled between the members of Bridge Four - the news about the plans Dalinar had for retaking Kholinar had caused quite the stir early this afternoon - was suddenly interrupted when a small figure appeared just at the edge of their camp, approaching the fire in a run.

"Lyn.", Bisig mentioned, impatiently playing with his empty bowl. "Figured she might not come today with her not showing up in the evening."

"Seems you were wrong.", Natam grinned, moving to the side to give Lyn a place by the fire. "Hey, Lyn! Long time no see! What have you been up to the last days?"

When she reached the fire, Kaladin realized that she was carrying something in her freehand. She shook her head fiercely at them, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry. Message from the Highprince. Very urgent. He told me to make sure you lot were off now, as soon as possible!"

"What message?", Natam inquired, looking confused. Some men were getting up, approaching Lyn, who unfolded the paper she had brought. Some of the men just groaned, pointing at the stew and loudly voicing their disagreement.

"A dangerous criminal", Lyn read, "has escaped prison mere hours ago. It was brought to my attention that the wanted fugitive is searched for the murder of Brightlord Naradhar and has used nothing less than a Shardblade to escape. You and your men are the only ones I hold capable enough to deal with a threat like this, much more as by chance you happen to know the look of the woman I am writing about. It is the same that was apprehended this morning at the training grounds. Capture her and return her to prison. Aladar wants her head but I would prefer if she comes with you willingly. Be careful. If the rumors are true she might prove a great danger or a valuable ally." Lyn took a deep breath after having finished and sighed. "That's all of it. Want me to repeat it?"

"No.", Kaladin replied, getting up and rounding the fire. "It was clear enough. I knew it..." He folding his hands with an agitated notion. "I suspected her to have a blade but it was a mere notion. Now this..." His gaze inadvertently sought the Oathgate platform that was hidden deeper within Urithiru.

"A woman." One of the men said. "A woman actually fighting with a shardblade! I mean..."

They started talking, weighing the impossible option of a woman not only taking part in battle but doing so while wielding a shardblade. Kaladin's thoughts drifted to Shallan for a moment. He had never told them about her blade. Who else knew? But this other woman... she couldn't be a Radiant, right? No, she probably wielded a dead blade but they could discuss this later, right now...

"We need to get to the Oathgate." Kaladin noted, putting his bowl down with a frown. "She must know someone is going to come after her. If Dalinar wants her caught we need to move now." He did want her caught, right? Kaladin felt uncomfortable thinking about killing a woman. He wasn't sure he would have been able to do it, even if...

Adolin's voice seemed to drift out of the past. After their duel with Amaram, back in the Shattered Plains, before the Everstorm, before the discovery of Urithiru...

You couldn't imprison a Shardbearer. If a Shardbearer is found guilty the only choice of verdict was execution.

That couldn't be the only way., Kaladin told himself while getting his man to move. Dalinar had ordered them to apprehend her, not kill the woman. Had called her a possible ally. Dangerous but...

Bridge Four, those among them that had been able to bond a spren in front, formed up to move. With a quiet unease deep within him Kaladin lead them to the Oathgate.


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It felt so good, to be out in the open again. True enough, the tower had many places where the walls and ceilings retreated almost enough to give the impression of openness, the constant breeze that flowed with the help of a system the scholars hadn't discovered yet took much from the confined air that a place like the tower would have had on Kaladin in other circumstances. Still - being out in the open again, on the Plains where the wind caressed his face and he could see the horizon in the distance - that was something Urithiru couldn't compare to.

Even though the reason he had returned to the Plains were dire. Thinking about them suppressed the overwhelming joy that had grasped him when taking to the skies again. Kaladin clenched his teeth, searching the ground before him. If he were on the run he would have gone out into the open, away from busy streets crowded with people bound to lead persecutors to him. He had sent the rest of Bridge Four scouting the busy areas of the Tower, mainly the Breakaway, knowing his men would enjoy this task while it would only have been a nuisance for himself. A part of them also took off to search the warcamps. There still was a lot of civilization there, partly because of the trade that now flowed through the oathgate. If the fugitive had taken these roads, they were bound to find the woman. A figure like that - white armor, armed, not bearing the colours of a highprince, possibly a deserter - would attract attention, even if they didn't see through the armor she disguised herself with.

The Shardblade wielding fugitive.

He growled softly, thinking about that moment, when the woman had been facing Dalinar, eye to eye. It seemed she had already killed an important lighteyes before. Letting her get close to Dalinar like that, just a whim away from potentially injuring or even killing the Highprince...

Kaladin had failed once again.

He owed it only to chance that this time hadn't cost lifes.

Perhaps he felt he owed her something for not killing Dalinar when she could have. Or was it because he disliked the idea of fighting a woman? Whatever the reason, the task he had been commanded to fulfill was more and more like an icy ball of spikes, deep within his insides. Still he had taken the route himself, where he suspected to find the fugitive. If she really had a Shardblade capturing her might prove dangerous. Even deadly for most people, if she resisted. He would not risk his men without dire necessity.

"Where are you?", he whispered, feeling agitated. The guard at the oathgate had known nothing of any soldiers crossing the gate today, even less with that strange armor of hers. The few soldiers that had gone to the Shattered Plains since her prison escape had been described to Kaladin and none of them had matched her looks in the slightest. Had he been wrong? Heralds send he hadn't chosen the wrong path to follow! If his men encountered that woman without him, being split into two separate groups to investigate the trail...

"Kaladin", a voice beside him said. He shot the glowing ribbon of light a glance, feeling his heart pound in his chest. The ribbon sprouted a face, becoming more of a floating body enveloped in long hair, than a simple line. Syl had a grave expression on her face.  
"What do you want to do to that woman, Kaladin?" Syl inquired, sounding worried. "You have no reason to fight her."

"I was commanded to.", he replied, still scouting the Plains before him. Nothing, but an odd spec of color. A pond or small body of water? Out here? The blueish spot seemed to move from a distance, but perhaps that only seemed that way because of the constant up- and down his lashing brought with it. Syl shook her head at his words. "But it's not what you feel is _right_ to do, Kaladin."

"She's a murderer.", he growled, annoyed at the hollowness of his own arguments. He could feel that he wasn't being serious with it and so apparently could Syl. "But you don't want to.", she mused, now confused. "Why would you do something that you feel is wrong?"

"I can't know if it's right or wrong." He squinted his eyes, the icy ball inside of him growing even colder. "All I know is that Dalinar believes it just to apprehend her at least. That's all I want to do. All I'm-" He stopped midsentence, suddenly feeling heavy and sluggish.

That was no water.

Before him a person with waving black hair, dressed in a long, blue havah hurried across the plains.

"Kaladin!", he heard Syl call as he descended.

There was nothing to give his approach away, no sound or reflecting of metal under the cloudy sky, not even a shadow. Still the woman spun around when he was only a spear's width away. He saw her paling beneath her deep tan.

Then she ran.

He leashed himself in the same direction she had taken off to, feeling a jerk in motion that ripped through his whole body. She was unlucky he was what he was. With that speed, most ordinary soldier's could not have caught her.

He fell at double her speed toward the lashing.

Again she seemed to sense his approach without looking, because she changed directions, one narrow turn after the other, never staying long in one direction. He had to adjust his lashings, but it was plainly visible that she wouldn't be staying ahead much longer. He was almost close enough to touch her and then...

Suddenly she threw herself forward, turning her speed into an elegant roll and when she shoot to her feet again she was facing towards him now, not away from him. Her eyes were wide with fear, and mist started to take shape in her defensively extended hands. The blade was pointed directly at his chest.

With a lashing into the opposite direction he brought himself to an abrupt halt that seemed to almost snap him in two. He let out a wheeze, drawing in more stormlight, to hold his body together. Still it felt as if his eyes and brain both wanted to just pop out of his head.

The woman pounced on him, sword falling like a executioner's axe.

"Stop!", he cried, evading the blow narrowly with the help of another lashing backwards. He dodged another attack, raising his hands while being fully aware that it would take but a moment to summon the Sylspear, should the situation require it. "Dalinar... Highprince Kholin wants you to come back peacefully. I do not want to fight you!"

Her eyes tightened, the glow of her shardblade reflecting in them. He felt dazzled by it. A woman, holding a blade like that...

Shallans blade had been more of a shortsword than a real blade. But _this_ \- this was death made steel. A giant sword, narrowing at it's base to spread out into a wider tip of deadly beauty, with a hilt of woven steel ropes, streaming upward. It's form reminded him of the Glyph Jeh.

"It doesn't matter, what Highlord Kholin wants. If I go to him, I'm as good as dead." Her voice was surprisingly calm. She didn't even seem agitated from the quick attacks, her breathing as steady as if she had only taken a slow walk around the park, not run with all her speed and then executed two complex strikes with a blade bigger than herself. He kept his hands upwards, feeling stormlight evaporate from his lips as he spoke.

"Dalinar Kholin is a man of honor. He will prove worthy of the trust you put in him. Come with me. I don't want to hurt you." Syl zipped in front of him, anxious eyes on the fugitive. The woman's face was a mask of determination.

"Over my dead body.", she shouted and fell into another set of attacks.

He felt the wind dance around him, as he narrowly evaded the blade, sucking in Stormlight to enhance his speed and alertness. With the sky covered as it was the wisps of light coming from his skin were now obvious, his body shining like a beacon. The woman didn't flinch. She was faster than anyone he had ever duelled - the blade flashed next to his face. Syl let out a cry.

A strand of Kaladin's hair fell to the ground.

Enough of this, he decided, dancing between two hits, suddenly jumping forward, evading a blow by getting too close for her to swing at him. His hand brushed over her shoulder.

With a surprised yelp the woman shot into the air. The Shardblade escaped her fingers, puffed to mist, before it could touch the ground.

Kaladin took off after her, lashing herself to the same point, he had just sent her flying towards.

Surprised he noticed her changing her position.

She was adapting her stance to the lashing he had put on her!

When their eyes met he realized that there was not a hint of fear in her eyes, like a normal opponent should have shown by being launched hundreds of feet into the air without warning. She already had her hand stretched out to summon her sword again. 10 heartbeats. That was the time he had if he wanted to do anything. 10 heartbeats - Kaladin adjusted his lashings, coming close enough to touch her again. He could lash her toward the Oathgate. If he managed to do that-

The moment he came close enough she punched him. A light flashed around her hand and when her fist connected with his face, blackness danced in his vision, bells ringing in his ears. Pain flashing through his nose and a disgusting, crunching noise told him that the punch had broken it. As he gasped for breath he tasted blood on his tongue. Mind guided by stormlight, not even forming a single coherent thought, his hand shot down. Diverted by it the punch intended for his solar plexus instead only grazed his body.

But he was touching her.

With a double lashing she shot off towards the Oathgate, himself following slower with only a fraction of that. He wanted to stay close enough to watch but far enough away that her blade-

She _screamed_.

And shot off in the opposite direction.

"What-" he followed, reversing the directions of his lashings. "How can she-" Had he made a mistake while lashing her? But how could that explain her going in the opposite direction? He didn't understand, how could this-

"No, Kaladin.", Syl said, face of utter disbelief. "Her sword! It's-"

"Another honorblade?", he shouted against the wind, lashing himself further until he was close enough to reach her ankle. The woman was still screaming, but managed to pull her leg away, kicking after him with the other. With a curse he snatched it and had her go up again instead. He couldn't keep this craziness up for a long time. Even with the broams he now carried on him all the time his Stormlight was bound to eventually-

From one moment to the next the pull that had thrown her to the side stopped. She shot up into the sky at a weird angle, a curve rather than a straight ascend, slowing while ascending.

He could make out the place she was bound to come to a halt, stretched out his hand to summon Syl, not to strike but-

The sword fell into her hand again. Fast! But 10 heartbeats could pass like that in moments like-

When he neared her position she turned herself in the air, bringing the blade up for a desperate strike with all her weight on it. The Sylspear fell into his hands, parrying the blow and-

"NO!", he heard Syl scream. Her voice shook every part of him, echoing deep within his bones.

From one moment to the next the Sylspear shattered into blinding light.

So did the Shardblade.

"He is my brother!", he heard Syl cry.

It was at this moment that the woman started to fall.


End file.
